


you're only little

by Mr_Phich



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Bathing/Washing, Diapers, Hurt/Comfort, Little!Bucky - Freeform, Littles Are Known, Non-Sexual Age Play, Trauma, Wetting, caregiver!Sam, little!steve
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-02
Updated: 2018-05-02
Packaged: 2019-05-01 09:57:17
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,389
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14517990
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mr_Phich/pseuds/Mr_Phich
Summary: Sam hadn't known Barnes was a little until the moment he walked into the kitchen, hand in hand with Steve. Somehow, it doesn't really change much of anything.





	you're only little

**Author's Note:**

> Here have this one-shot that has been cluttering up my docs. 
> 
> Also, additional warnings: discussion of messing (doesn't actually happen), Bucky briefly discusses past punishment from HYDRA in non-explicit terms, this is actually made of marshmallow fluff.

“Samma?”

“Yeah kiddo?” Sam asks, not turning away from the counter where he’s chopping veggies for dinner. Keeping Steve fed is no small task. 

Steve doesn’t reply, there’s just the scuffing of feet on the floor, so Sam sets his knife down and turns. He goes very, very still. 

Steve’s standing in the entrance to their kitchen, barefoot and tousled hair, looking pretty little. All of that is ordinary enough. Sam’s been Steve’s official caretaker for six months now, two of which were spent on the road searching for Barnes until Steve ran himself into the ground and Sam made a unilateral decision that it had to stop. 

Behind Steve is Barnes. 

He’s wearing a dark hoodie and too big sweats, head ducked low with lank hair hanging in his face. Steve is carefully holding his hand and Barnes is half hidden behind Steve. Sam studies the pair for a long moment.

Finally, he shoots a stern glance Steve’s way. 

The boy could have mentioned that Barnes is a  _ little.  _ Steve had been so vocal about the fact that they couldn’t leave Barnes out there alone, but he’d never said more than  _ he can’t be alone.  _ Those words make a lot of sense now. 

Sam takes a deep breath, trying to adapt to this information as quickly as possible. Barnes is dirty and too thin and clearly needs some looking after and Sam can’t possibly turn him away without forever alienating Steve — not that Sam would  _ want  _ to turn him away. This is just a tricky situation, all round, and he’s going to have to tread carefully. 

“Well hi,” Sam finds himself saying. 

“Bucky needs help,” Steve explains, taking a couple steps further into the kitchen. 

Sam nods slowly, “Alright, hon. Why don’t we all come sit down and figure this out, okay?”

“Uh-huh, Samma,” Steve says easily, pulling Bucky gently after him as he walks into the room. “You sit here, Bucky. I’ll sit next to you, ‘kay?” Steve guides, pulling out a chair. Sam finds a well of fondness rising up in him. Steve’s such a sweet kid. Barnes follows Steve’s directions and soon they’re all sitting around the table. 

Sam waits a moment, trying to find the right words. Steve’s sitting there looking all anxious and young, biting at his finger the way he only does when he’s feeling really insecure. Barnes sits perfectly straight and directs his gaze at the table, not glancing up. 

God, Sam thinks suddenly, he couldn’t imagine the sort of horrible things HYDRA must have done to him. He wonders how often Bucky had been forced to be little around them — he couldn’t have survived all those years without going little. Biologically it just wasn’t possible. Fuck, Sam doesn’t want to imagine a little at the mercy of those assholes. 

Decided, Sam speaks. “I’m real glad you came to us, Bucky.” Sam uses his gentlest tone as he speaks to the little. “I know it can be scary to ask for help and it was really brave of you to come find Steve.”

Steve scooched his chair closer to Bucky, leaning towards him. Bucky leans back. 

“You’re safe here,” Sam continues. “And you can stay as long as you want, okay?” 

Bucky nods, hair falling into his face. 

“I told you Samma would take care of you,” Steve says, his confidence in Sam breathtaking. “It’s going to be okay. We’re together again.”  Bucky nods again, but doesn’t speak. That’s alright, Sam figures. There’s a whole lot of trauma in there and he can’t even hope to start unpacking it yet.

“I think first things first is a bath, some clean clothes and some food, whaddya think?” Bucky glances up at that, shy blue eyes peeking out from behind dark lashes. Sam puts on his friendliest and most comforting smile and tentatively, Bucky nods. “Would you like Steve to come with us?”

Bucky’s hand shoots out and grabs Steve’s again, whole body going tense. Sam lifts his hands cautiously, showing he’s not going to do anything. 

“I’m not going to make him leave,” Sam assures quickly. “I just wanted to give you the choice, okay?” 

“Stay,” Bucky says, voice tiny. Sam smiles and nods quickly. 

“Of course, Bucky. If you want Steve to stay, he’ll stay. Let’s go start the bath, okay?” Bucky ducks his chin again and doesn’t respond.

Steve, on the other hand, tugs gently at Bucky’s hand and says, “C’mon Bucky. This house has got a ginormous tub and the water’s always hot and Samma gots me lots of toys.” 

Sam smiles a little wider and stands, leading the way into their roomy bathroom. It had been one of the main selling points of the house they’re renting, as Steve was considerably bigger than most littles and accomodations had to be made. It’s also got three bedrooms, allowing Steve to have a room for when he’s little and when he’s big, which is nice. 

Crouching down by the tub, Sam starts the water — nice and hot, the way Steve likes it. He pours in a generous amount of bubble bath. That done, Sam collects two big, plush towels, one of them printed with whales and the other with sharks, and a stack of washcloths. These he sets down on the counter and turns back to the boys. 

Steve’s already tugging his t-shirt off, getting a little tangled as he does so. But Bucky just stands very still, fists curled in the hem of his hoodie. Sam’s about to offer help when Steve drops his t-shirt to the ground and turns to Bucky.

“Arms up,” Steve tells the other little. Sam sits back, curious. Steve’s clearly comfortable helping with this sort of thing and expects to have to. Sam wonders how much of Bucky’s current behavior is about trauma and how much is just the way he is when he’s little. He also wonders how old Bucky is. Steve’s a Class E and falls somewhere between four and six. Sam had sort of assumed that Bucky would be the same, but maybe not. 

Bucky lifts his arms slowly and Steve starts tugging up his hoodie. Underneath, Bucky’s wearing a dark long-sleeved shirt, which Steve quickly strips off him too. 

Bucky’s ribs are prominent against his pale skin. Vivid red scars line the edge of the metal arm. Sam swallows back anger and grief. Steve bites his lip a little, but doesn’t show any other outward signs of distress, which is kind of impressive given how far into headspace he seems to be. 

“Pants now,” Steve says and starts tugging at Bucky’s sweats. The other boy blushes a little, but doesn’t go to stop Steve. He steps out of his pants and then his boxers, both black, one leg at a time. Naked, he wraps his arms around himself and shivers. 

Sam once again considers the best way to offer assistance before being preempted by Steve, who coaxes Bucky over to the side of the tub and holds his hand as Bucky steps foot by foot into the hot water. A cloud of dirt and grime enters the water as Bucky sits and Sam figures they’ll have to fill the tub at least twice to get the boys really clean. Steve quickly strips his own clothes unashamedly, leaving them in a messy pile, and climbs into the tub with Bucky. Thanks to its oversized proportions, both boys fit without a problem. 

“Samma, toys!” Steve orders. 

“How d’you ask, hon?” 

“Please!” Steve adds, drawing the word out. Rolling his eyes fondly, Sam gathers the bucket of toys and places them at the side of the tub within easy reach. He kneels down beside it, thankful for the plush bathmat that saves his knees. 

Steve immediately begins to pick up toys and show them to Bucky, chattering excitedly as he does. The other boy watches and sometimes nods or shakes his head, but doesn’t say anything. Deciding the best way to handle this decidedly abnormal evening is to treat it like it’s very, very normal, Sam gathers a washcloth and loads it up with  _ Johnson’s  _ body wash and sets to cleaning Steve. 

Steve is wriggly and excitable but cooperative, like he always is, as Sam quickly cleans him up. Sam bathed Steve only the night before and doesn’t really need a full scrubbing down. Like most littles, Steve has sweats less and has less B.O. than other adults, so washing everyday isn’t a necessity. Nevertheless, Sam gives him a thorough wash anyway, so that when he turns to Bucky, the other boy will know what to expect. 

Still, he asks, “Is it alright if I wash you, Bucky?” Bucky’s clutching a Captain America rubber ducky in one hand now and tension has started to ease out of his shoulders. He considers Sam for a long moment and then nods. 

Slowly, every so slowly, Sam brings the washcloth to Bucky’s flesh arm. He washes carefully. The bathroom goes very quiet and Sam can feel two sets of intense blue eyes on him. 

Bucky moves his arm cooperatively to help with the washing and nods when Sam says, “I’m going to wash your chest now, okay?”

They go like that, body part after body part. The only trouble spots is when Sam asks to wash down below. Bucky goes very, very still. 

“Do you want to do it yourself?” Sam quickly offers.

Bucky shakes his head. “Steve do,” he mumbles, sounding very, very young. 

“Okay,” Sam agrees, handing the washcloth over to Steve and trying not to worry about how young Bucky seems to be. Perhaps unsurprisingly, given how he helped Bucky with undressing, Steve seems unfazed by this task. He dips his hands below the bubbles and appears to be both gentle and thorough in cleaning Bucky. He even asks Bucky to sit up so Steve can clean his bum, just the way Sam does for Steve. 

Bucky gets tense and starts to shake while Sam cleans his hair, so Sam goes quickly and carefully. Steve gets that way, sometimes. Water near his head isn’t a great thing for Steve.

Once both boys are clean enough to satisfy, Sam coaxes them out of the slightly gray water, wrapping large towels around their shoulders. He playfully dries Steve’s hair and tucks Bucky’s towel extra tight around his skinny frame. 

“Let’s get you boys some jammies, okay?” 

“You can borrow mine, Bucky!” Steve chirps, taking his friend’s hand again and tugging him towards the nursery. It isn’t properly a nursery, Sam knows, since Steve is too big for a real nursery, but Sam stills calls it that in his head. 

It’s painted a soft green. There’s a big double mattress tucked into a corner, no bedframe needed, and made up with bedding printed with little gray bunnies. There’s a thick plush rug on the floor and shelves overflowing with books and toys. Sam maybe spoils his boy a little, but he deserves it. Steve bounces over to his dresser, dropping to his knees to rummage through his pajama drawer, carefully selecting items. 

It’s kind of adorable how Steve picks out his fuzziest, coziest, most beloved pjs for Bucky. Suddenly, Steve frowns, turning to Sam. 

“Samma, Bucky needs a diaper.” Sam can’t help the way his eyebrows lift. He glances over at Bucky’s who’s blushing and staring down at his toes, which are curled over each other insecurely. So maybe Bucky’s even younger than Sam expected. He can roll with that. 

“We don’t have any diapers, bud,” Sam says slowly. Steve screws up his face, thinking. It’s one of the cutest things ever, not that Sam would tell Steve that. “Could he use one of your pull ups? Just until I can get what he needs.” Sam asks gently. 

It’s Steve’s turn to blush. 

Steve doesn’t usually need or want pull ups, even at his youngest. At home, they deal with the occasional wet bed, but it’s not frequent or regular enough that Sam would feel the need for Steve to wear protection. 

But Steve  _ always  _ has trouble away from home. Hotels, airplanes, Avengers tower — it doesn’t seem to matter where, if they’re away from home and Steve is little, he inevitably wets the bed. Hell, it even happens sometimes if he’s not little. It’s not uncommon — littles who aren’t totally toilet trained tend to have issues when they’re big too — but Steve is mortified by the topic.  

“Um,” Steve mutters, staring at the floor. “Yeah, I guesso. But um —” Steve glances up and over at Bucky again. Bucky’s cheeks get even redder and unexpectedly, he brings his flesh hand up to his mouth and starts to suck his thumb. Sam really needs to figure out how little he is. “Sometimes Bucky isn’t so good with - uh. With the other thing.” 

Sam’s puzzled for a moment, but the answer comes to him.  _ Oh, _ he thinks, keeping his face carefully neutral. 

“Do you sometimes have BMs in your diaper, kiddo?” Sam asks, voice gentle. 

Bucky makes a sound like he’s been stepped on and doesn’t answer. 

“Mostly he goes potty like a big boy,” Steve says. The language surprises Sam, because he’s never heard Steve use the word  _ potty  _ before. It’s clearly what Bucky’s familiar with and Sam makes a mental note. “But sometimes he can’t.” Suddenly defensive, Steve firms up his eyebrows in an absolutely adorable manner, and tells Sam, “He can’t help it. He’s only little.”

“I know, hon. I wouldn’t ever be mad about something like that, you know that. How old are you, Bucky?” 

Sam directs the question at Bucky, but he’s not surprised that it’s Steve who answers. “He’s C,” Steve says. “But he’s real little right now.”

Class C is around twenty months to three and very, very little. And if Steve is saying that Bucky is particularly little at the moment, that probably means that Bucky’s closer to the twenty month mark. Sam takes a deep breath. 

“Okay. That’s a lot littler than you, Stevie. I think Bucky’s probably going to need some different things than you, to take care of him. How would you boys feel if I asked Nat to pick us up some things?”

Steve screws up his mouth, thinking. Bucky watches Steve. Finally Steve nods and Bucky follows a moment later. Sam’s not sure he feels about Bucky essentially copying Steve and not really making his own decision, but the truth of the matter is that he needs some supplies to get through the night and Nat is the best option. 

“Alright. Let’s get you boys dressed and then I’ll give her a call. For now, Bucky, you can wear one of Steve’s pull ups. Just until we can get what you need, okay?” Bucky nods, thumb still in his mouth. 

Sam stands and heads over to the closet to gather what he needs. He brings the whole package over, setting it atop Steve’s dresser, anticipating that he’ll need it again soon. Both boys are still wrapped in their towels, so Sam starts by gathering some underwear for Steve. Holding the printed briefs out, Sam waits for Steve to step into them so that he can draw them up his legs. Pajama pants and top quickly follow. 

He follows the same procedure with Bucky, though Bucky is hesitant and keeps glancing over at Steve. Steve hovers for a moment and then abruptly runs over to his bed. He comes back with two of his many stuffed animals. One is Steve’s beloved “Moo,” a cow that’s been so well loved in the last several months that Sam’s already had to patch her up twice. The other is a floppy frog which Steve carefully places in Bucky’s free hand. 

“This is Ribbit,” Steve tells him seriously. “He’s a good frog. He’ll take care of you.”

“Thanks,” Bucky whispers. 

Of course, Sam promptly has to ask Bucky to let go of the toy so he can put a shirt on him. For a moment, Bucky looks like he might refuse, but he eventually hands it back to Steve, bottom lip quivering. Sam hurries through putting the pajama top on so that Bucky can reclaim his toy. 

“Let’s get you boys some food.” 

Sam guides the two of them out into the hall and down to the kitchen and then herds them into the living room. Hustling them onto the couch, Sam tucks them under a blanket and puts on the TV —  _ Peep and the Big Wide World  _ seems a trigger safe choice. It’s a little young for Steve, but Steve’s so fascinated by all TV that it doesn’t really matter. 

Boys absorbed, Sam slips back into the kitchen. He lets himself lean against the wall and take several deep breaths before springing back into action. He scraps his original plan for dinner and instead pulls frozen chicken breasts out of the freezer and gets them on a sheet pan in the oven with some oil and salt and pepper. He sticks two sweet potatoes in the microwave and starts steaming some broccoli. Steve’s not a picky eater in the least, which is nice. Sam doesn’t know if Bucky will follow suit, but he’s hopeful. 

All that done, Sam calls Nat. 

“Hey,” he greets when she picks up. “You in DC?”

“Yes,” she replies, voice neutral. “What’s up?”

Sam considers carefully. “We’ve got an unexpected house guest. An old friend of Steve’s dropped in. And apparently he’s little — very little.”

“How nice.” Sam can’t make out any surprise or other reaction in Natasha’s voice, but he wouldn’t expect to. 

“Yeah. We need some supplies and I obviously can’t leave the two kids alone. I was wondering if you would be willing to run a couple errands for me?”

“Of course,” she responds and Sam breathes a sigh of relief. 

“A bottle,” he starts, “And some fortified formula. A pacifier. A couple of sippy cups — the non-leak kind, please.” Nat makes a quiet affirmative noise, so Sam continues. “A package of diapers — size four, maybe? Wipes. Diaper cream. I think — that’s it.”

“Alright, I got it. Give me a little less than an hour, okay?”

“You’re a lifesaver, Nat, seriously.” 

“I know,” she says dryly and hangs up. Sam rolls his eyes fondly, feeling much, much better about how tonight is going to go. After checking on dinner, Sam fills two sippy cups with watered down juice and carries them out to the living room. He pauses for a moment, watching the two of them. 

They’re cuddled together, Bucky tucked into the curve of Steve’s body. Bucky’s still sucking his thumb, metal hand clutching Ribbit to his chest. Steve’s got an arm around Bucky and is rubbing Moo’s ear over his nose rhythmically. Sam’s heart expands at the sight. The two of them are going to have him wrapped around their little fingers in no time, Sam suspects. 

He steps further into the room, making to sure to make enough noise that they hear him coming. Steve turns to look up at him and brightens up in a way that never fails to amaze Sam. “Samma! Come cuddle!”

Sam smiles and comes around to Steve’s side of the couch. He sits down next to him and Steve promptly scoots halfway into his lap, pulling Bucky with him. Bucky huffs a little but doesn’t otherwise complain. 

Sam hands them their sippy cups. Bucky watches Steve take a long swallow from his before hesitantly raising his own to his lips and sucking experimentally. His eyes widen happily at the taste and he takes a bigger swallow. 

Sam wraps an arm around Steve and gently rubs Bucky’s shoulder. Both boys relax a little more. 

Steve whispers, “Thank you, Samma.” 

“You’re welcome, kiddo.” 

Sam thinks he could get used to this. 

*

Nat shows exactly 45 minutes later, just as the boys are finishing their dinner. Unusually, she knocks on the door before entering, perhaps suspecting that their new “guest” would appreciate the extra warning. Even so, Bucky goes stiff and nervous as she lets herself in. He clutches at Ribbit and pushes so hard into Steve that Steve  _ oofs  _ and falls into Sam’s lap. 

Carefully extricating himself from the boys, Sam gets up. Gently, he pats Bucky’s knee under the blanket. “It’s okay, Bucky. Nat is a friend. She’s just bring some things we need.” 

Bucky sucks his thumb a little harder but nods shakily. 

Nat is quiet and still. Sam waves her into the kitchen so they can talk properly. She sets the bags on the table and without a word they start unpacking them. 

“Steve says he’s Class C,” Sam explain as he carries the bottle, sippy cups, and pacifiers over to the sink so he can wash them. “But I wouldn’t be surprised if he dropped a class.” It’s a common reaction to trauma in littles and at this point Sam would be surprised if Bucky  _ hadn’t  _ dropped a class. 

Nat nods, face neutral. “He just turned up?”

“Yeah,” Sam sighs. “I haven’t really asked him about it. He’s not talking too much and he’s deep in headspace, I don’t want to push.”

“Makes sense. Do you know what your next step is?”

“Gotta get him to a doctor,” Sam responds. “And set up with some counseling asap. And guardianship, dammit.” Sam rubs his head, feeling suddenly overwhelmed. Nat comes up beside him and presses her arm against his in quiet comfort. 

“Leave the guardianship to me,” she says. “Take him to Steve’s doctor tomorrow, she’ll have recommendations for a therapist.” Sam nods slowly. It’s a good plan. Steve’s doc was carefully vetted and then educated on the serum by Bruce, so she’d be equipped and trustworthy for Bucky too. 

“I’ll give her a call in the morning.” 

The soft sound of bare feet on linoleum announces the arrival of the boys. Sam turns, putting a gentle smile on his face. It’s Steve, looking worried, fiddling with Moo’s ears the way he does when he’s starting to get anxious. 

“What’s a matter, Stevie?”

“I dunno!” Steve says. “Bucky started cryin’ and then he said — he asked, he said  _ don’t hurt me m’not bad  _ and I wouldn’t hurt him, I  _ wouldn’t  _ Samma, why would he say that?”

Sam’s heart twists in his chest. He quickly crosses the kitchen to sweep his boy into a hug. “Oh, honey. I don’t think Bucky really thinks you would hurt him. I think he just got confused.” Sam hesitates a moment, and adds, “He’s been with people who probably only hurt him for a long time.”

Steve sniffles a little and Sam pulls back, pressing a kiss to his forehead. 

“Let’s go check on him, okay? We’ll figure it out.”

Steve nods, grabbing Sam’s hand and tugging him into the living room determinedly. Bucky is still on the couch, which Sam takes as a good sign, but he’s curled into the corner of it, holding very, very still. 

Sam approaches slowly, making plenty of noise. Steve stays glued to his side. Crouching in front of the couch, Sam quietly says, “Bucky? I heard you were upset about something. Whatever it is I’m sure we can work it out. No one is going to hurt you.”

Bucky’s shoulders start to tremble. 

“We wouldn’t hurt you, Bucky! Never ever. Not in a bajillion years.” Steve says, sitting down on the couch. He picks up Ribbit, which Bucky had abandoned on the cushion and gently presses him to Bucky’s metal hand where’s it’s wrapped around Bucky’s legs. Bucky’s fingers open, accepting the toy. 

He pulls the toy back, tucking it between his knees and chest. He peeks his eyes over his knees. They’re wet and red with crying, making Sam’s breath catch in his throat. Steve cries so rarely that Sam has a kind of instinctual panic response to tears now. 

Bucky opens his mouth and closes it abruptly. Sam stays where he is, calm and still, waiting the little out. Steve leans slowly into Bucky’s side, which seems to relax them both. 

“Didn’t mean to,” Bucky finally whispers, voice tiny. 

“You didn’t mean to what?” Sam asks quietly. 

Bucky bites his lip and new tears threaten. 

“Whatever it is, it’s okay,” Sam reminds gently. “We’re not going to hurt you, no matter what.”

Finally, Bucky manages, “Wet.”

Sam immediately relaxes.  _ That  _ he can handle. “Oh, bud. That’s nothing to be upset about. That’s why you’re wearing protection. You’re only a little boy, you can’t help that.”

Bucky won’t meet his eyes and Sam has a sudden, horrible suspicion. He lays a hand on Bucky’s thigh, a point of grounding contact. “Did people punish you for this before?”

Steve goes very still and the knuckles on the hand holding Moo go suddenly white as Steve grabs his toy close. 

“They said — hadta be big, shouldn’t — only babies are  _ stupid  _ and  _ gross  _ and — bad, shouldn’t I shouldn’t.” 

“You’re only a toddler!” Steve blurts suddenly, cheeks red with anger. “You can’t help it! Your body doesn’t know, is all. Your body never knew good. That doesn’t mean you’re bad!”

Sam smiles and Bucky finally meets his eyes. He still looks unsure, like he’s looking for reassurance that Steve is telling the truth. “Steve is exactly right, Bucky. You’re too little to know when you have to go to the bathroom all the time. You aren’t bad — you’re a good boy. Needing diapers or pull ups doesn’t change that. I’m very sorry you were punished for that before. No one here will ever punish you for needing a change. I promise.”

“Even — “ Bucky starts, then bites his lip, cutting himself off. 

“Even what, hon?” 

“Even — even  _ messy _ ?” Bucky asks, voice so small Sam can barely hear him. Sam has a sudden, vicious need to hunt down the last of HYDRA and crush them into the ground. But he can do more good here, helping this little boy feel safe again. 

“Even messy,” Sam says strongly. “Everybody needs to do it. It doesn’t matter if you use the toilet or a diaper.”

Bucky doesn’t look totally convinced, but Sam knows it will take time. 

“Samma never gets mad,” Steve suddenly whispers and Sam turns to look at him. He’s flushed red and half hiding behind Moo. He keeps glancing toward the kitchen, as if checking to make sure Natasha won’t overhear. “Cause I have — sometimes at night m’not. I leak in my sleep sometimes.” Sam thinks that language —  _ I leak _ — is possibly the most adorable description of bedwetting he’s ever heard, but he would never, ever say that to Steve, no matter how often he uses the description. “And even if the bed gets icky, Samma never gets mad. Even if I get Samma all icky.” 

Bucky nods a little, turning to curl into Steve’s side. 

“Why don’t you boys get to Steve’s room. I’ll get what we need and we can get you all clean and fresh, okay hon?”

Bucky blushes brightly, but nods. Steve echoes the nod firmly and starts pulling Bucky over in that direction. Sam ducks back into the kitchen, rifling through the bag until he finds the package of diapers, the wipes, and the diaper cream. Nat had helpfully added a diaper mat to the collection of items, Sam discovers. She glances over at him from the kitchen and smiles a little, kind. Sam nods gratefully back at her. 

“Do you want me to make up a bottle for him?” she asks. Nat is Clint’s caregiver and he’s just a tad younger than Steve, not young enough for bottles, but Sam’s somehow not surprised that Nat knows exactly what’s needed. 

“Yes, please,” Sam says, glancing at the time. It’s a little earlier than Steve’s usual bedtime, but Sam imagines it’s going to take a while to get them settled. Supplies gathered, Sam quickly makes his way to Steve’s room. 

Bucky is curled up in Steve’s lap, still crying silently. Steve’s crying now too and looking overwhelmed. Sam aches a little and reminds himself that however comfortable Steve seems taking care of Bucky, he’s just a little boy and that much responsibility shouldn’t be put on him. 

Sam goes over to them, setting his armful of supplies on the floor and carefully pulls them both into a hug. They stay there for several long minutes, until both boys are calmer. 

“Okay, kiddo,” Sam says softly, pulling back. “Let’s get you nice and clean and dry, okay?” Bucky blushes a little, but nods. 

Sam quickly lays the diaper mat on the floor and cajoles Bucky over. Bucky looks terribly hesitant about it, but he comes over and lays down. Steve sits by his head and pets his hair clumsily. Bucky sucks his thumb and clutches his toy. 

Mindful of the way the bath went, Sam says, “I’m going to take your pants off now, okay?” He waits for a nod before tugging down the pajama pants and setting them aside. “And now the pull up,” Sam warns. Again, he waits for a nod before ripping the sides of the wet pull up and tugging it away. Bucky’s big enough to helpfully lift his hips, even if he won’t look at Sam.

Gathering a wipe, Sam asks, “Can I clean you up, honey?”

Bucky nods, but a fresh wave of tears trickles down his face. 

“It’s okay,” Steve says, leaning over Bucky and pressing a sloppy kiss on his forehead. “Samma’s nice, he’s gonna be real careful.” Sam nods, patting Bucky’s thigh in what he hopes is a comforting manner. Working quickly but thoroughly, Sam wipes the urine away from Bucky’s skin. Like most littles, Bucky doesn’t have much body hair, which makes Sam’s job a lot easier.

“I’m going to put some cream on your skin,” Sam narrates. “It’ll protect your skin and keep you from getting rashes.” Bucky nods again, so Sam sets to work. That done, he slips one of the diapers from the bag and quickly gets it folded around Bucky’s bum and taped up carefully. 

After helping Bucky get his pants back on, Sam says, “Alright, boys. I think it’s bedtime, okay? Let’s go brush your teeth.” 

Surprising Sam, Bucky lifts his arms, silently asking to be carried. Like most littles, Bucky is lighter than he looks and Sam, like most caregivers, has enhanced strength. Even so, Bucky’s a big man and it takes some finagling to get him perched on Sam’s hip.  Still it’s worth it for the way Bucky relaxes and props his head on Sam’s shoulder, yawning sleepily. 

Steve looks a little put out by the development, but doesn’t say anything. Sam takes his hand, squeezing gently. Steve relaxes and smiles tiredly at Sam. 

Sam ends up having to brush both boys’ teeth — Bucky needs it, clearly, and once Sam has seen to Bucky,  Steve insists that Sam do it for him too. Steve’s generous and kind, Sam reminds himself, but he hasn’t ever had to share Sam with anyone. 

“You need to go pee before bed,” Sam reminds Steve as he picks Bucky up again. 

Steve pouts and shakes his head. Sam muffles a sigh. “Yes, kiddo.”

“Don’t gotta, Samma,” Steve protests, stomping his foot. Bucky gets a little tense in Sam’s arms and Sam strokes a reassuring hand down his back. This is not an uncommon battle with a tired and stubborn Steve, just one in many obstacles the boy uses to push back bedtime. 

“You need to go pee or wear a pull up,” Sam tells him, which is their usual deal. Steve has  _ never  _ opted for a pull up. 

Steve glares at the floor. 

“C’mon kiddo,” Sam cajoles gently. “Let’s go pee and then we can pick out some books and get in a nice cuddle. You don’t want to lose your books tonight, do you?” It’s an idle threat, and they both know it, but Steve generally  _ wants  _ to be a good kid. He just sometimes has a hard time when he gets tired.

Huffing, Steve twists around and stomps over to the toilet, where he tugs down his pants, sits, and pees. Steve blushes a little and curls over his belly, glancing over at them, so Sam turns Bucky and himself around so Steve can have a little privacy. 

Toilet flushed and hands washed, Steve moodily comes up alongside Sam. Sam takes his hand and says, “Thanks, hon. Let’s go get you boys tucked into bed.”

Sam’s assuming they’re going to want to share, which seems like a pretty safe assumption until Steve is frowning at Sam as he lays Bucky down on Steve’s bed. Bucky’s still clinging tight to Ribbit, but his arm tightens around Sam’s neck very briefly as Sam settles him onto the mattress. 

Sam rubs Bucky’s shoulder soothingly while saying, “Come here, hon. Come give me a hug.” Steve pouts the whole way over, but he comes, flopping down onto the bed next to Sam and immediately cuddling close. Steve’s just a touch too tall for Sam to be able to carry with any comfort, but he can easily haul the little into his lap, which he does. 

“What’s a matter, bud?” 

Steve shrugs and buries his head in Sam’s neck, snuffling a little wetly which makes a worried frown settle on to Sam’s face. He rocks Steve back and forth a little, as best he can and pets his back gently. Steve’s only prone to tears in very specific situations, making tears uncommon enough that Sam still freaks out internally a little every time they happen. 

Bucky is blinking up at them, sucking rhythmically on his thumb. Sam smiles at him, but is internally trying to rethink how bedtime is going to go. Maybe Steve doesn’t want to sleep with Bucky. Sam’s totally fine with that, except for then he’d have to put Bucky in with him — he’s too young to sleep on his own without a crib or toddler bed — and Sam knows that would make Steve jealous. 

There’s a knock on the open door. Bucky and Steve both stiffen, and Bucky goes as far as whining and clumsily rolling over, hiding his face in the covers. Sam rubs his back a little and turns to smile at Natasha. Her face is impassive and she’s carrying a bottle of formula and a sippy cup of milk. Sam winces a little internally. Steve isn’t allowed fluids before bed, but Nat has no way of knowing that. She also can’t know how upset it will make Steve to see the choice and then have it taken away. 

“Just the bottle, Nat,” he says softly, gesturing for her to come in. She does so on quiet feet. Steve goes tense in Sam’s arms as she approaches — Steve still isn’t comfortable being little around many people. He does better with the team all the time, but that’s usually with a lot more warning and in much less stressful situations. 

Natasha sets the bottle down by the edge of the bed and Sam nods gratefully. “I’ll just wait in the living room,” she adds softly. Sam briefly wonders where Clint is, that she isn’t needing to get home to do bedtime with him, but it’s possible he’s in New York under the watchful eye of Phil and Pepper. Clint and Natasha bounce around a lot. 

“Thanks, Nat,” Sam finally responds, in an equally quiet tone. He waits til she’s left the room to ask, “Do you boys want to sleep together?”

“Uhuh,” Steve says immediately, so whatever’s got him pouty and sad isn’t that. 

Sam turns to look at Bucky, who nods shyly, tentatively meeting Sam’s eyes. Sam gives him a gentle grin. 

“Alrighty. Stevie, why don’t you pick us some good stories, okay?” Steve nods, but takes a couple minutes to pull himself out of Sam’s arms. Sam climbs into bed slowly, watching Bucky carefully as he does. He takes his usual side, leaving Bucky in the middle. Reaching out, Sam sweeps up the bottle. “You want this, buddy?” Sam asks, showing Bucky the blue, planet patterned bottle. Bucky blushes, glances over at Steve, who’s muttering to himself as he pulls out books, and nods. 

Sam grins. “Good boy,” he praises. “I’m going to pick you up a little, okay? And hold you while I give you your bottle.” At that, Bucky shakes his head quickly. Sam goes cautiously still. “No? Would you rather hold it yourself?” Bucky blushes deeper, but points at Steve. 

Sam hides a frown. He doesn’t want to make Steve responsible for Bucky, even if that’s the familiar dynamic. Steve has enough responsibility in his life. But Bucky also deserves to be comfortable. 

But Steve comes right over, dropping the collected books on the bed and reaching for the bottle. Still not convinced, Sam hands it over and watches as Steve settles cross-legged beside Bucky. Bucky squirms over, resting his head in Steve’s lap. They look comfortable — routine, just like Steve helping Bucky in the bath. Steve lifts the bottle to Bucky’s lips and then looks up at Sam expectedly. 

Sam gathers up the books and opens the first one, beginning to read. He’s just going to have to play it by ear, he guesses, and keep a careful eye on Steve to make sure he’s not getting overwhelmed.

Bucky suckles slowly at the bottle, so they’re three books in before he finally finishes the formula. Steve slips it from his mouth and squirms down, under the covers, tugging them around him and Bucky. Carefully, Sam reaches over Bucky so he can stroke Steve’s hair like he usually does. 

Bucky closes his eyes and slips his thumb into his mouth, reminding Sam that he needs to find the pacifiers that Natasha bought. Steve rubs Moo’s ear over his nose and blinks sleepily through their fourth story. Finally, Sam closes the book and gets up. He comes around to the other side of the bed, and crouches down. 

Leaning in, he presses a kiss to Steve’s forehead. “I love you, baby.”

“Love you, Samma,” Steve mumbles. “Love you, Dada.” Sam smiles, filled with warmth. Steve doesn’t often call him that, so every time he does is a precious moment. 

“G’night, Bucky,” Sam says and Bucky blinks at him, eyes closing slowly like he’s not really all the way awake. “Sleep tight, sweet boys.”

Yeah, Sam thinks. He could get used to having this. 


End file.
